


Mindoir

by Penthesilea1623



Series: Come Back Home [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Kaidan thinks Shepard might want to talk, Shepard's parents were hippies, a bit angsty, beginning of relationship, but some sweetness as well, non-graphic telling of violent events in Shepard's past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 21:47:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9461657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penthesilea1623/pseuds/Penthesilea1623
Summary: After encountering Talitha, Ophelia Shepard retreats to her quarters by herself. Kaidan thinks she might need to talk about it.Takes place at the beginning of Mass Effect, before Kaidan and Shepard are in an established relationship.From a prompt on tumblr, and cross-posted there.





	

Kaidan had known that Shepard had survived the Batarian raid on Mindoir, everyone in the Alliance knew that, but the reality of that survival, of what she had gone through didn’t hit him until Lieutenant Girard had requested her help with that girl Talitha, another Mindoir survivor, but only just rescued.

Shepard hadn’t even hesitated. She’d dropped everything they were doing and headed straight there. She’d insisted on speaking with the girl alone, and over his and Garrus’ objections, had left her weapons behind.

They’d been too far away to hear exactly what she said. As always, Shepard’s voice was low and calm. Talitha’s voice had been easier to hear; frantic, shouting at times, at one point screaming out, “Why are you alive? Why aren’t you like her?”

Shortly after that outburst, Shepard had returned, informing Lieutenant Girard that the girl had taken the tranquilizers. She’d sounded as composed as ever, but there had been something in her eyes, a hollow weariness that only disappeared when Girard, his frustration plain, had asked her, “Why the hell are we out here if we can’t save one little girl?”

Kaidan had been watching her (hell, when didn’t he watch her), and he’d seen the look of utter anguish flash across her face, just for an instance: if he’d blinked he wouldn’t have seen it at all. 

She’d knelt down and picked up her weapons and her helmet, and when she’d straightened up that serene mask she was famous for was firmly back in place. For a moment he thought he must have imagined it.

But he knew he hadn’t.

“Bad things happen to good people, Lieutenant.” She’d said, and her voice was oddly flat. “That’s why you and I are here.”

She sounded cold, emotionless, and that alone let him know she wasn’t okay. Ophelia Shepard could be distant, yes, reserved, yes, but she was never cold. 

She’d turned without another word, and left, heading not towards CSEC where they’d been heading when Girard’s call had come in, but back to the Normandy, just one dock over from where they were. When questioned replied in a voice that brooked no opposition that CSEC could wait until tomorrow. She offered no explanation or excuse.

Once on the ship she’d gone straight to her quarters and hadn’t reappeared.

It was past midnight now, most of the crew was asleep and those who weren’t were up on the Command Deck. Kaidan stood in front of the door to the Captain’s quarters, trying to decide if he was about to make a mistake. 

Ophelia Shepard was a private person. She’d only mentioned Mindoir that one time when she’d said her parents been farmers, and had immediately changed the subject. 

Obviously it was a topic she didn’t want to discuss. He should respect her privacy, respect her. He’d told himself that and had turned to walk away half a dozen times, and every time he’d remembered that flash of pain in her eyes and had turned back.

Before he could talk himself out of it yet again, he raised his hand and knocked.

At first he thought she hadn’t heard him, that she must be asleep, and then she spoke.

“Who is it?” Her voice sounded rough.

_Shit_. He had woken her up. “It’s Kaidan, Shepard. Sorry, were you sleeping? “Too late to do anything about it now if she had been.

The door slid open and she was there in front of him, and she looked… different. She was wearing black boy shorts and of all things, a Batman t-shirt: ancient, the symbol faded and flaking off as happened to old t-shirts, but definitely Batman. Her hair, a brown so dark it was almost black was loose: he’d only ever seen it in regulation styles, pulled smoothly back into a bun or a twist, not a hair out of place. Not like this, falling down in tangles around her, almost to her waist. 

For a moment he could only stare.

He’d wondered how long it was.

She gave a short huff of a laugh, more an exhalation than anything, not seeming to notice his gawking. “No. I wasn’t sleeping, Kaidan. Not tonight.” She rubbed her forehead with one hand and then ran it through her hair, brushing it back from her face. 

That explained the tangles.

“Did you need something?” She asked when he failed to speak.

This was as far as his plan had gone. In hindsight he probably should have come up with a plausible reason for knocking. “Uh…I…well…”

And to his surprise she smiled. “Checking up on me, Lieutenant?”

He opened his mouth to deny it but she cut him off before he could.

“It’s okay, Kaidan. Honestly, I could use a distraction.” She raised her eyes to his, needing to for some reason, and he realized she was barefoot while he was still in combat boots: normally they were the same height. That, added to the unbound hair, and the batman t-shirt and she looked, well, young. In the dim light of the cabin she could have passed for the teenaged girl she’d been when the Batarians had attacked Mindoir and a part of him couldn’t help wondering if that was a coincidence. 

“I just thought you might need to talk about today,” he said simply.

This close to her he realized her eyes were red and a little puffy. She’d been crying. She didn’t answer, but she looked down and ran her tongue over her lips to moisten them, as if she wanted to answer, wanted to talk about it, but didn’t know how to start.

“You may not believe it but I can actually listen to other people’s problems, not just whine about my own.” He coaxed, trying to keep it light, just in case he was wrong and she really didn’t want to talk about it. “I’ve been told I’m actually pretty good at it.”

She gave him a tired smile. “Actually that’s not hard to believe at all.” She stepped aside. “Come in, Kaidan.”

He stepped into the cabin and the door slid closed behind him.

The room looked very much like it had when Anderson had occupied it, looked very much every captain’s cabin on every ship looked like: bed, desk chair computer. There was a picture frame on her desk, face down, and a bottle of scotch with a shot glass filled to the brim sitting next to it. 

She saw him looking at it. “I’m not going to drink it.”

“I know.“ He said. “You hate scotch.”

She frowned, a small wrinkle appearing between her brows. “I do. How did you know that?”

“I pay attention. It’s what you always order at receptions. And then you never drink it.”

From the look on her face he’d surprised her. “And I thought I was fooling everyone.”

“I could never figure out why though.” He admitted.

She shrugged. “You have to drink something at those things or they think you’re stuck up. It makes me seem more like one of the guys. It helps my tough girl image. Unfortunately it also means that everyone and their brother sends me scotch when they’re trying to kiss up to me. I’ve got half a dozen bottles in this cabin. If anything happens to me there are going to be some serious questions about Commander Shepard’s drinking problem.” 

But that didn’t explain the shot glass. “So if you aren’t going to drink this one why pour it?”

Her lips curved into a wistful smile. “Nostalgia. My parents didn’t drink much but there was always a bottle of good scotch in the house, and if there was something to celebrate they’d each have a shot. Every time my father would fill it to the very top, so full that it was impossible to pick it up without spilling it and when my mother complained he would say it was a sign that he loved her, and she’d laugh and pick it up and of course it would spill and she’d complain again, and he’d kiss her…” her voice broke off, and she paused for a moment, clearing her throat. “…and then they’d drink their scotch,” she concluded a little too brightly. Her eyes were brimming with tears, and she blinked rapidly.

He pretended not to notice. “That sounds nice.”

She nodded. “Yeah. It was.” A single tear escaped and she brushed it impatiently away.

“Do you have a picture of them?” He asked. 

Her head tilted to one side, and she gave him an appraising look as if she was trying to figure out why he would ask it, but then she smiled. “Yeah, I do..” She reached down for the frame, turning it on and handing it to him.

He stared at it. 

A man with a Mohawk and a goatee wearing rectangular mirrored sunglasses, and a black leather jacket with no shirt under it. A woman with bright pink hair in two pony tails high on her head and some sort of corset type top with a feather boa wrapped around her neck a couple of times. Between them was a toddler that he could only assume was Shepard wearing a rainbow tutu, and fairy wings, and nothing else. All three of them were mugging for the camera, sticking their tongues out at the photographer. 

Shepard’s mother had a tongue piercing. 

He thought of his parents back in Vancouver, Mom with her pearls and Dad with his cardigan. When he glanced over at Shepard she was smiling mischievously.

“Not what you expected?” She asked with an arch of her eyebrow.

He gave a rueful grin. “I probably thought they’d be a bit more conventional.” He admitted. “Weren’t they farmers?”

Her eyes were dancing now. “They were. Of a sort. We lived in a commune. Part of a back to the sixties movement – the 1960’s that is.”

He could only stare at her as what she said sank in. “You’re telling me your parents were hippies?” He couldn’t help laughing, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“Peace and love, baby.” She was grinning now, and it occurred to him that he’d never seen her grin, not like that. 

She looked down at the picture, running her fingers slowly over her parents’ faces. “They were a lot of fun, but not terribly practical people. I mean packing up like that, probably on a whim if I know them, and moving to Mindoir of all places, in the middle of the Attican Traverse. But they wanted a simpler life, back to nature, living off the earth and all that, and they found a like-minded group so off we went to become farmers. I was about three at the time. And farm we did. We tried to be self-sufficient. We didn’t eat anything we didn’t grow ourselves. It was a lot of work but everyone pitched in together. We were a community. Well, we were a commune, right? A lot of singing around the campfire in the evening. A lot of kids named things like Rainbow and River and Leaf.”

“So you got off easy with ‘Ophelia’ then?” 

She laughed. “Relatively. Easier than my brother and sister certainly.”

Kaidan couldn’t hide his surprise. “You have a brother and sister?” He’d never heard that. It certainly wasn’t in any of the bios he’d read or the vids about her that had been made soon after she’d been dubbed the Hero of the Skyllian Blitz. But as soon as the words had left his mouth he realized why he’d never heard of them.

“Had.” She said, confirming his fear. She swiped her finger on the frame and the picture changed. “Zen and Pixie.” She said, handing it to him. “Twins. My parents tried for years to have more children after I was born. They’d just about given up and then there they were.” 

He took the frame. A picture of an obviously teenaged Shepard, but young, maybe thirteen or fourteen, holding two chubby infants, one in each arm. Beautiful, even at that age when most kids were awkward and spotty, even squinting into the sun at the camera as she was.

“They died on Mindoir with my parents.” She told him before he could ask. “The Batarians aren’t inclined to babysit so any children too young to take care of themselves are automatically killed. They were too young: they’d only just started walking. It wasn’t a sophisticated raid, you know, more of a snatch and grab operation. There was a nursery in the commune where all the littles would stay during the day while the rest of us were working or at school. The Batarians just went in and started shooting. They set fire to the place afterwards. I never understood why. They’d already killed them all.” She was staring at the picture.

_Jesus_. “I’m sorry, Shepard.”

There was a sad ghost of a smile on her face when she looked at him. “Me too.”

“And your parents?”

She swiped her finger again and the frame went black. “Killed, not taken." She said brusquely. "I identified their bodies when the Alliance was cleaning up after. I identified a lot of bodies actually.” She took a shaky breath and looked at him sideways. “I’m sorry. It’s awful, I know. I never talk about this. But that girl, Talitha…” Her voice trailed off.

He couldn’t help asking. “Did it bother you? What she said?”

“Why am I alive?” She shook her head. “No. I know why I’m alive, there’s no mystery about that. I’d had a fight with my parents, and in a fit of sullen teenage rebellion I hopped on the back of my boyfriend’s motorcycle and we drove off and stayed out all night. I wasn’t there when the raid happened. They must have been so worried.” She said almost absently.

_Jesus_ , he thought again. “What did you fight about?” It was the first thing that popped into his head.

She gave a small snort. “The boyfriend with the motorcycle, of course. I’d just turned fifteen and Skye and I had this overnight camping trip planned up in the hills outside of the settlement as a birthday celebration. My parents of course said no, and we fought, and off Skye and I went. When the Batarians attacked at sunrise we had a perfect view of the whole thing.” Her voice had that strangely detached quality it had had earlier when she’d spoken to Lieutenant Girard. “The Alliance had sent warnings but no one believed it would happen. When it started Skye and I both knew exactly what it was. He didn’t even hesitate. He shouted at me to stay there, to stay hidden and then he jumped on his bike and went riding off to the rescue, leaving me behind to see it all, the explosions, everyone I knew being rounded up, or killed. I could smell the smoke and the smell of burning bodies and see the fire. I saw Skye get shot, killed. I lay there, flat on the ground and I watched it all.” 

He couldn’t think of a thing to say. She didn’t seem to notice.

“I used to wonder, you know, if the twins had been older would they have made it long enough to be rescued? You hear stories of slaves escaping or being rescued like Talitha was. I used to fantasize about that, about being part of a mission to rescue them, about finding them and taking them home with me and taking care of them, but after seeing Talitha, for the first time I’m almost glad they were killed, because the idea of them going through what she did…that might just have done me in.” She didn't say anything else.

When almost a minute had gone by without her speaking he could stand it anymore. “Is that why you joined the Alliance?” He asked.

She stood straighter. “Yes. The Alliance had known that the raid was coming, they’d been prepared. If we’d only listened to them we might have been too. The Alliance rescued me. They patched me up and they got me through those first few weeks, and it only took that long for me to know that was what I wanted to do: to spend my life doing everything I could to keep what happened on Mindoir from happening to anyone else.”

“Like you did on Elysium.” Kaidan said, gently reminding her.

“Yes.” She said with satisfaction. “Like I did on Elysium.” Her eyes were distant. “Watching that day on Mindoir I swore I’d never be in that position again, that I’d never stand there, helpless, looking down and watching as my whole world was destroyed in front of me, that I would never feel that useless again.” She looked up at him. “It’s a promise I intend to keep.”

It sounded almost like a warning, not to him per se, but to the galaxy, and he didn’t doubt it for a minute. “You’re an amazing woman, Shepard.”

And to his surprise she actually blushed.“No. Just determined. And stubborn.” She smiled at him and that haunted look seemed to have lessened, at least a little. “Thanks for listening, Kaidan. You were right. You are good at this.” She tilted her head, watching him carefully for a moment. “It’s a tough story to hear, I know. There’s a perfectly good shot of whiskey over there if you want it, and no one to report you for breaking regs.”

He wondered what he must look like for her to make that offer. “No one except my captain,” he pointed out.

“I hear she’s a good sort though.” She teased.

“How about I let you get some sleep instead. You can buy me one the next time we’re on shore leave.” He said and moved towards the door.

She followed after him. “It’s a deal.” At the door stopped him, putting a hand lightly on his arm. “Thank you, Kaidan. For listening. For being there when I needed someone.” 

Just that small touch reduced him to a babbling idiot. “I’ll always be there when you need me…well, not me. Someone. For listening, I mean. That is if you want to talk. Shepard. Ma’am.”

She wasn’t even trying to hide her smile when he'd finished. She moved her hand from his arm, reaching out and hitting the door control. The door whooshed open behind him. “Good Night, Lieutenant.” He could hear a trace of laughter in her voice.

“Good Night Ma’am.” The door closed behind him and he somehow resisted the urge to bang his head against it, instead turning and walking away, shaking his head.

He could just hear Ash: _You don’t get out much do you LT_?

No, he really didn’t. But maybe he should change that.

**Author's Note:**

> Mass Effect ramblings and face/style/location photos can be found on my tumblr [Come Back Home inspiration/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/Come+Back+Home)


End file.
